Reality TV
by Cats070911
Summary: What can an Irishman, a tearjerker and a tub of icecream teach Barbara about love?


**Author's note:** all usual disclaimers apply. A little bit of fluff...

* * *

Nothing had gone particularly wrong, but equally, nothing was going especially well. Barbara was sick of their case. They were no closer to solving it three weeks on than they had been at the crime scene. Hillier's constant demands for progress angered her, but most of all she was tired of arguing with Tommy. It was no worse than their usual disagreements about suspects and motives, but those debates usually resulted in a break-though. This time it felt as if they were banging their heads against the Great Wall of China.

"This is hopeless!" Winston said, throwing his pen onto his desk.

"I think we are all tired. We should call it a night and come back fresh tomorrow. Thanks, everyone."

Barbara rolled her eyes. Tommy, using his best Eton voice, sounded calm and controlled, but she could tell he was fuming. They both hated anything beating them, and this case was looming as a failure. "Night, Sir," she said as she picked up her bag.

"Barbara."

She sighed loudly. _Not now. I don't have the energy to fight_. "What?"

Tommy looked at her and frowned. "Nothing. It can wait. Good night."

The carpark space she usually used was empty; she had forgotten that she had caught the Tube to work. Barbara thrust her hands deep into her jacket pocket and marched towards St James's Park station, mumbling to herself about how insensitive her boss could be. It was completely unreasonable to expect him to know she had caught public transport and even more irrational to think that he should have offered to drive her home, but she was still angry that he had failed to do it.

There were no seats on the train, so she stood until Embankment then waited to change to the Northern line. Also crowded, that train was standing room only. Her mood was not improving. A heavy set man managed to tread on her foot as he rushed to get off at Warren Street. "Oh, for pity's sake!" she said far louder than was polite.

"You alright, love?" An older man in a dapper pinstripe suit stood and offered her his seat. His voice had the lilt of a leprechaun. "You look like you've had a rough day."

Barbara smiled for the first time in days. "Thanks, but I can stand. As you say, just a terrible day."

"Work or man?"

Barbara frowned. That was harder to answer than it seemed. "Both!"

"Ah well, love, a long bath, a few nips of something sweet and a sad movie will fix you up."

"Sad movie?"

"My wife, God rest her soul, used to say that if you felt bad a tearjerker made your troubles look light. If not, you cried so much that you felt better anyway."

Barbara nodded. She hated crying and admitting weakness, but if she had the excuse of a tearjerker, she could excuse herself. "Your wife sounds like she was a wise woman."

"That she was, m'girl. Gave me eight wonderful children and 40 years of joy."

"You must miss her."

"More than the light from all the stars in the sky." The man looked sad and yet somehow content. "But she's still here." He patted his chest and gave Barbara a heartbreaking smile.

"I'm sorry. I know what it's like to lose people you love."

"We all face that, m'girl. It's what we do with the time we have together that counts. Colleen would hate it if I wasted whatever time is left. I owe it to her to live a full life. And you owe it to those you lost. If it's your man that's giving you grief, just tell him the truth. We men don't know what you think unless you beat us over the head with it. This is my stop."

The man stepped off the train then turned and winked at her. "May the blessings of Saint Patrick be upon you, and your man."

Before she could answer, the carriage doors closed and the train lurched forward, leaving Barbara pondering his words.

* * *

Tommy had intended to ask Barbara back to his house for dinner. Their lack of progress in the case was straining their friendship. It would never break, he was confident of that, but he just wanted a night where they could relax. These days it was only in her company that he was ever able to be himself. Even alone he needed to adopt a persona as Lord Asherton or DI Lynley. Tonight he just wanted to be Tommy.

He was sure that Barbara felt the same. They needed each other to recharge. Fighting over the stupid case was draining them. A quiet night at either's place, a meal and pint in a pub, or even just a drive around looking at the lights of the city always did wonders for them both. She looked exhausted, and he knew she needed it too, but when she had snapped at him, he had retreated. Now as he sat turning the empty whisky glass around in his hand, he wished he had been braver. Berlioz was playing in the background - a poor choice if he intended to cheer himself up.

He stood to pour another. Oddly, instead of whisky, he fancied icecream. Movenpick Swiss Chocolate was his favourite, and despite not having eaten since breakfast, it was all he could stomach. He walked through to the kitchen and looked in his freezer. "Damn!"

Tommy grabbed his coat and drove to the store where he usually bought it. He had brought Barbara here once because it specialised in imported, higher end brands. She had consented to letting him buy her several tubs to sample. He smiled as he remembered the delight in her eyes as she had sat on his lounge testing them. For a fortnight they had eaten at his house just so she could free his freezer of icecream.

He grabbed a large tub of Swiss Chocolate and headed for the counter. Something glinted to his left. The light in the Ben and Jerry's freezer strobed, drawing his attention to a pint of Choc Chip Cookie Dough. It was Barbara's favourite.

 _It's a sign._ Somewhat surprised at his spontaneity, he bought a tub and a box of soft centred Swiss chocolates. "In the missus' bad books?" the small Indian storekeeper asked with a wink. "Maybe you should buy her some flowers too?"

* * *

Barbara showered quickly and settled on her couch with her microwaved macaroni cheese. She had just found an old DVD that had been given to her by one of the nurses at her mother's home. The nurse had raved about it as a tearjerker. If she was having a self-indulgent evening, she might as well pull out all the stops.

Twenty minutes into the film, Barbara had been through six tissues. In a way that made no sense to her as the story so far was simply two young people from different parts of society falling in love. But the male lead reminded her of a cross between her mysterious Irishman on the train and Tommy. The tale of misplaced love and regret hit home. Somehow her male hero was living an alternative version of her life.

She had been unnecessarily mean to Tommy. It was not his fault their killer had planned his murder meticulously. She paused the film and found her phone.

 _I'm sorry I've been so grumpy._ Her finger hovered over the send button. Just as she hit it, her doorbell rang.

Barbara quickly blew her nose and wiped her eyes. She imagined it was more Mormons. There had been a lot of them visiting lately. She swung the door open. "You're wasting your time. I'm not a believer... Sir!"

Tommy held up a bunch of multi-coloured gerberas and his bag containing the icecream. "You don't believe in flowers or Ben and Jerry's?" His smile faded to a frown. "You've been crying."

Barbara shook her head. "I was watching a weepie DVD."

"I brought enough icecream for two."

"Er, oh, yeah... come in." She stood back and let him pass. "Sorry, I wasn't expecting you."

"You don't mind, do you? I... well we have been at each other's throats for days, and I hate that. I was going to finish a bottle of fine single malt, but I thought icecream would be better for me. I thought maybe you were as..."

"Hungry?"

"Hmm, something like that." He placed the chocolates, and icecream on her kitchen bench then handed her the flowers. "I'm sorry I've been such a ponce lately."

She undid the paper and put the flowers in her kettle then gave him a huge smile. "I'll find a vase after we eat. So you saw my message?"

"No." Tommy pulled out his phone. He looked at her in a way that made her believe everything was going to be fine between them. "We're a fine pair, aren't we? Spoons?"

They settled on each end of her sofa. Her DVD was paused at a scene where the hero was just about to kiss the heroine. Barbara went to turn it off.

"We can watch it together if you like," he said.

"Nah, it's a sentimental tearjerker made for lonely women."

"Are you lonely Barbara?"

"I was." She raised her spoon. "Now I have Ben and Jerry."

"And me."

 _She smiled. Yes, I have you, don't I Sir?_

* * *

The icecream was delicious. Tommy finished his tub faster, probably because Barbara had helped herself to several samples. He had managed to steal one spoonful of hers, but only at significant risk to life and limb.

They settled back and watched the rest of the movie in companionable silence, munching on the chocolates. When the heroine died, Barbara snuffled tears into a tissue. "Sorry, I didn't know she died."

"It's alright, Barbara." He extended his arm along the top of the couch. "Come here."

Barbara cocked her head to one side. "Why?"

"Because you need a hug." She frowned then tentatively shuffled up next to him. He put his hand on her back and pulled her against his chest.

"Sorry, Sir. I don't know why I'm in this mood."

Tommy ran his fingers up and down her back. "I wasn't thinking of Helen. I was thinking about the time when you were shot." He tightened his grip on her. "I nearly lost you. I have never been more afraid."

"Oh."

"I need you, Barbara. We need each other, don't we?"

She buried her face in his shirt and nodded against his chest. "Yeah."

"I always thought love had to hurt to be real; that it consisted of grand declarations and bold action."

"Yeah, not like the movies where they look across a crowded room. Love's not that simple."

"Maybe it is. Why can't it be easy and natural? Why can't it be friendship and trust and the freedom to be who you truly are?"

"I guess for some it is. We're not built like that, though. We've lost people. It hurts." She looked up at him with sad eyes. "It always hurts."

"No. I don't think it has to, but the fear of being hurt stops us."

"I don't understand."

"I think you do, Barbara. Don't you?" Tommy gently pulled her up his body so that she was, more or less, sitting in his lap.

"Yes. I met a man in the train tonight." Tommy's hand tightened against her back. "He offered me his seat. We started talking. He had lost his wife but his love for her radiated from him. She was still with him. I want that. I want something so strong it endures beyond me."

"So do I. We already have that, don't we?"

"I'm scared that admitting it will ruin everything."

"So am I, but it won't." Tommy caressed her back then reached up and cupped her face in his hand. Her eyes mirrored his excitement and fear. "Maybe we should say it together?"

Barbara smiled shyly but nodded.

"I love you."

Barbara said it quickly as if she hoped it might slip past unnoticed if it was not what he meant. By contrast, Tommy said it slowly, caressing her with his voice.

"You didn't sound convincing, Barbara."

She looked down. Her face was red and her breathing shallow. "I've never said that to anyone before."

"I have, when I thought I was in love, but I've never truly understood it until now."

Barbara looked up. "I have loved you for so long, Tommy, that I can't remember not loving you. I just never dared to name it."

Tommy smiled and moved his hand into her hair. He leant forward and kissed her gently.


End file.
